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Carol

Bountiful Boundaries

Carol Kirkpatrick, possibly the brightest writer I ever met in a writing group (proof positive being her ability to scribble out a pithy, brilliantly crafted story on the spot) had the additional charm of treating me to an oral history of Brooklyn whenever we walked its streets together.  Combining warmth, depth, humor, and subtlety well into her 90s, she will always represent perfectly what I’d like to be when I grow up.  My hope is to charm you with this sample of her writing:

Boundaries

Write from the heart.

Respect the privacy wishes of all.

If you want to take anything outside the group get the author’s permission to share it with whomever in the outside world you have in mind.

Poetic license is traditionally at the outer rim of artistic license.  Certain usages broader than those in general usage may be allowed within the context of a specific piece.  If not…feces can hit fans.

The poetry group at the senior center was off to a good start.

Most members were writing free verse.  A couple of more experienced poets presented more structured pieces.  And a couple of shrinking violets had yet to present.

The program director was delighted that this new activity was going strong.  Someone shared several pieces from the group with her, and she pasted them on a bulletin board labelled “Poets Corner.”  She thought this might inspire some more members of the center to join the group.

One or more center members took exception to a posted poem.  It was a rather clever, light-hearted ditty about the center’s noisy lunchroom.  The objector(s) apparently thought that reference to “the gay table” and the table “frequented by ladies of a certain age” were stereotyping members.

When the program director mentioned this to the group leader, the group leader removed the poem in question.  She told us this at the group’s next meeting.

All hell broke loose.  The author of the piece in question sputtered furiously about censorship and threatened to resign.  Another member demanded the return of copies of her work she had shared.  “I don’t want my work shared without my prior permission,” is what she stated.

All of us were concerned with keeping everyone in the group.  We were also aware of the need for boundaries.

Carol

Hospital Healing

Carol Kirkpatrick, possibly the brightest writer I ever met in a writing group (proof positive being her ability to scribble out a pithy, brilliantly crafted story on the spot) had the additional charm of treating me to an oral history of Brooklyn whenever we walked its streets together.  My hope…
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Carol

Dropping Dead

Carol Kirkpatrick, possibly the brightest writer I ever met in a writing group (proof positive being her ability to scribble out a pithy, brilliantly crafted story on the spot) had the additional charm of treating me to an oral history of Brooklyn whenever we walked its streets together.  My hope…
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Carol

Punishing Parameters

Carol Kirkpatrick, possibly the brightest writer I ever met in a writing group (proof positive being her ability to scribble out a pithy, brilliantly crafted story on the spot) had the additional charm of treating me to an oral history of Brooklyn whenever we walked its streets together.  Combining warmth,…
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Other Stuff

Raucous Res

Married with children.  Closeted in a predictable, somewhat sterile, suburbia. It was a sudden overabundance of dental bills that pushed me over the edge. I’d been living off the father of my children for a very long time.  My youngest child had finally entered school, ending my excuse to pursue…
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Aging

Dad’s Dementia

It started with his complaining that he was forgetting names. I pooh-poohed it, pointing out that I was 30 years younger and I never remembered people’s names. In retrospect I shouldn’t have used myself as a yardstick. My dad had spent his life working with large groups of people whose…
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